


skinship

by artlessly (orphan_account)



Series: another level of salvation [7]
Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime)
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, F/M, Fucked Up, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Unhealthy Relationships, super fucked up relationship here, this was written in fuckin november 2018 LOL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 15:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/artlessly
Summary: ventricular desire slinks along golden marrow.





	skinship

**Author's Note:**

> do you guys remember last june when i'd apologise for writing a fic one week late? well this chick is back after SEVEN MONTHS with a new fic she PULLED OUT OF THE GUTTER. hi!! god i missed this fandom. i missed hirotwo, my kids....... anyway! don't have much in terms of life updates so sit back, pull out your popcorn and Enjoy the Fic. adieu!

Her fingers coast up his back, raking up his shirt and tracing the rhythm of his spine, the song of his shoulder blades. He melts into her as her touch grazes along the scars tearing across the small of his back - ashamed, almost - but she doesn’t falter or hesitate.

She stops at the gashes of sheared-off wings and bone, and hums lightly. “You’re mine, you know that? My darling is you, and you alone.”

“I’m yours. It’s because of you that I can stand here right now.”

“But you’re an angel, and they are meant to fly, not stand, aren’t they?” Her breaths crest over his cheek, gentle crashing waves, and he’d drown in the whole of her if she wanted him to. “Is it right for me to chain you down like this, when you’re winged and I’m not? Is it selfish, darling?”

Her lashes hide the moonlight sparkle in her eyes, and he wonders how he looks to her, haloed in soft headlight—gold-blood angel, macabre and grotesque angel. Dead smile angel, angel without his divinity. “It doesn’t matter—I can’t fly with these wings myself.”

He’ll let this be a confessional if her fingers press against his skin. The language of flesh speaks sin and confession far better than any tongue: human, monster, divine. It speaks of thirst. It speaks of _desire_.

She pulls the zip at the back of his shirt and lets it fall away, forgotten at their feet. Hiro watches teal eyes twinkle with city light as she strokes the still-bleeding roots, her fingers pulling away wet gold. “So you already know, don’t you? I thought you’d still cling onto hope.”

“But you said we could be each other’s wings.” It’s almost an accusation and he—he doesn’t know how to take it back, doesn’t know how to right this. Doesn’t know what he can say to make her stay.

“You know full well I can’t be that for you, darling. No one would let us take flight.” Her right hand comes up cradle his cheek, smearing gold across his skin. His own blood, on her hands. Her eyes are dark. “It hurts, right? The pain is unbearable, isn’t it?” She smiles. Her voice softens to a breath. “But it looks so beautiful, my felled angel. You’re beautiful bleeding.”

She cants her head to the side, lashes veiling her coal irises. “What’ll it be, darling? Would you stay with me?”

“Only if you promise me,” he whispers.

It’ll be a lie white as porcelain. He can taste it in the centimetres parting her lips from his, in the hesitant flutter of her fingers back to her sides. In the lower of her lashes, the laughable slip of her smile. He’s no fool, he should know better, he shouldn’t be needing a divine intervention. But there’s a sadomasochism slinking in his heart, atria flooding with sick desire, veins bursting with a sinner’s song. He wants her, God, he does, he wants, wants, _wants_, wants her to lick his wounds clean and press her fingers to his naked hipbones and break his bones

one

by

_one_.

“I promise.”


End file.
